


in sorrow to the harbor

by syllogismos



Series: Innocent Son [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Desk Sex, First Time, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:04:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3644565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syllogismos/pseuds/syllogismos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin just keeps <em>looking</em> at him. Eyes on him to make him feel like he's the only thing that exists in Merlin's world, just like when–</p>
<p>
  <em>"Looking good, Eggsy."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Feeling good, Merlin."</em>
</p>
<p>This is a bit different though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in sorrow to the harbor

Well, this is awkward. Monumentally awkward. So awkward there should be a statue erected ( _shit_ , not the best word choice) in its honor, a monument in the shape of those perfect, curving globes…

_Fuck._

I mean, really, _what the fuck_? What the fuck woman, princess, what-the- _fuck_ -ever, even thinks that this is _possibly_ how this goes? A princess! Naked from the waist down, turning over for Eggsy, right in front of him, exactly as if Eggsy really should be getting ready to put _his dick_ in _her arse_ because that’s what he’s owed. Really, _really_ …

What.

The.

_FUCK_??

On second thought, Eggsy thinks, in the space between her turning over and him learning how to use his mouth again (to tell her, “Hey, don’t. It’s OK. You don’t owe me–”). On second thought maybe it makes _more_ sense with a princess. Royal families are fucked up beyond belief, right? Who the fuck knows what _they_ think is normal or what kind of rules they live by. Eggsy shudders to think of what kinds of relationships in the world could possibly be _worse_ than what he sees between his mum and Dean, but also he knows, of course, that there are.

What a world, what a people. (And yet—Valentine was still dead wrong, thinking that the answer was just to kill them all. Or incite them all to kill each other, rather. Again, the refrain: _what the fuck??_ ) 

Whatever the rules are—royal or not—it doesn’t matter, because Eggsy isn’t a damn rapist, and that’s what this would be, wouldn’t it? He’s got the key code to the cell and therefore all the power in this situation. No matter how you might try to slice it, it’d be coercion for the man opening the lock to _fuck_ what’s inside.

It takes _hours_ to open all the cells and round up all Valentine’s prisoners, even with Merlin’s help. And it’s hard work. All the adrenaline’s gone now; Eggsy feels heavy and tired deep in his bones. He’s got a headache from where the glasses have been digging into the thin skin above his ears, and his eyes have that gritty, sand-filled feeling that bites every time he blinks.

The finish is a blur. Eggsy’d feel bad for making Merlin and Roxy (newly rounded up from her mountain-top) handle the loose ends, but they’re both Kingsmen and capable, and Eggsy had only meant to rest his eyes for a moment, leaning his head back against the buttery smooth leather upholstery of his seat in the plane, but he wakes up to Roxy shaking him gently by the shoulder, and waking is like trying to pull himself up from the bottom of a pool filled with treacle: hard, muscle-aching _work_.

“We’re back at HQ,” Roxy says. “Come on, almost done. Almost time to go home.”

_That_ wakes Eggsy up: the cold, sharp dose of reality. Because Eggsy isn’t going to get to _go home_. He’s got nowhere to go, and _shit_ , between Arthur’s betrayal and saving the world, he hasn’t thought about the (pending) fight with Dean, the fight with Harry, Harry’s death— _Jesus_ , no wonder he’s been burying all that somewhere because it’s all fucked up, and there aren’t going to be any easy answers.

“Up you get.” Roxy’s tugging on his arm now, and Eggsy stumbles to his feet dutifully, follows her off the plane and through the labyrinth to Merlin’s office.

“Here’s your sleepyhead,” Roxy announces on the threshold, pushing Eggsy through first.

Merlin is doing something on his computer, head turned to focus on the right-most of his three monitors. Only one track of the lighting hums, and the office is mostly in shadow, except for the cool-colors glow reflected back onto Merlin’s face and glasses from the monitors. He doesn’t look up as he answers, “Thanks, Lancelot.”

“Is there anything else to be done tonight?”

Now Merlin looks up. He removes his glasses and rubs his thumb and finger over his eyes, then looks at Eggsy—a long look, up and down and back up, and Eggsy feels a shiver trying to start, but he tamps it down ruthlessly. Merlin shifts his gaze, finally, to Lancelot. She’s standing at attention, calm and—frankly (because Eggsy’s allowed to admit these things in the privacy of the space between his ears)—beautiful. There’s a spectre of a smile around the corners of Merlin’s mouth before he dismisses Roxy.

“No, Lancelot, thank you. Everything’s finished. You may go.”

Roxy turns, and she beckons to Eggsy with her head, as if to say, “Coming?”

Eggsy’s about to shake his head, when Merlin cuts in for him. “You’re free to go, Lancelot, but I’m keeping Eggsy for a moment.”

Roxy leaves. Eggsy waits for the click of the latch on the door because, well, a bit of shame, really. His palms are sweating, and he’s not tired anymore because his nerves are singing, ringing warning bell strikes that vibrate through his whole body, and Merlin just keeps _looking_ at him. Eyes on him to make him feel like he’s the only thing that exists in Merlin’s world, just like when–

_“Looking good, Eggsy.”_

_“Feeling good, Merlin.”_

This is a bit different though.

“Something wrong?”

Eggsy looks down at his feet and mumbles, “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

It’s unclear, at first, whether Merlin understands. When Eggsy finally looks up again, Merlin is still focused on Eggsy intently, eyes steady on him even as he crosses around to the front of his desk and leans on it, arms crossed over his chest, glasses forgotten next to his keyboard.

“You know, _home_ ,” Eggsy tries to clarify. “My stepdad– I can’t– And I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“I know,” Merlin says. He pats the space next to him on the desk; Eggsy takes the hint and moves to fill it, mirroring Merlin’s body language, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on the blank expanse of the far wall.

“Thank you for your dedication and focus,” Merlin starts, tone stiff and formal, which probably should have been Eggsy’s first warning. “I know it can’t have been easy.” His voice suddenly goes too soft, “I know Harry meant a lot to you.”

Eggsy risks a look sideways, out of the corner of his eye. Merlin’s looking up at the ceiling, teared up and trying to hide it. _Shit._

“He did.” Eggsy’s feeling his way forwards, one word blindly found after another. “But he meant even more to you, I think.”

Merlin doesn’t answer. He tries to escape, instead, vaulting up from his perch on the desk, but he’s not quick enough: Eggsy reaches out and catches his arm, just below the elbow. He slides his hand down slowly, keeping a firm grip because he doesn’t want Merlin to leave. Merlin chokes a little when Eggsy interlaces their fingers, and he turns his head away.

Eggsy waits for Merlin to recompose himself, laying his other hand over Merlin’s for even greater security against escape. Merlin’s shoulders slowly fall as the tension bleeds out of him, second by second in time with the small circles Eggsy is tracing around his knuckles with a thumb.

When Merlin finally does turn to face Eggsy, Eggsy freezes. It’s a bit ludicrous to be holding his supervisor’s hand in both of his, but Merlin doesn’t look disturbed by that. Merlin looks– Without the glasses, Merlin’s eyes are dangerous—trip, and you might just fall in and never be able to climb out. Eggsy’s pinned by them, and then Merlin raises his free hand to Eggsy’s face, tracing the line of his jaw with two fingertips before holding him by it. He leans in, and the first touch of his lips is soft, barely there, and Eggsy can’t help it, he squeezes hard on Merlin’s hand in his, and pulls Merlin in by the waist, his hand under Merlin’s jacket, fisted in Merlin’s shirt.

Merlin twists his hand out of Eggsy’s grip, and Eggsy tenses, pressing his knuckles hard into the small of Merlin’s back. Merlin doesn’t get to run away from this now, not after–

_Oh_ , he’s just taking Eggsy’s glasses off, using both hands to pull the frames from Eggsy’s face. Then both hands, free of glasses, come back and cup Eggsy’s face (God, his hands are _huge_ ), thumbing his cheekbones and his lips before Merlin leans in–

_Fuck_ , he’s a good kisser. Nothing tentative now: Merlin is taking an inventory of Eggsy’s teeth and then, satisfied, lapping at the roof of his mouth or pulling back to nibble and suck at his lower lip. His hands wander too, but with more of a purpose. Around Eggsy’s neck, briefly, large and a bit frightening, then lower to rub over his chest (Eggsy’s nipples stand to attention even through the layers of vest and shirt and jacket), then lower still and around his back, and Eggsy finds himself lifted onto the desk, and that’s a hell of a lot better—Merlin is a fucking _genius_ , not that that’s news—because now Eggsy’s at the same height, pretty much, and both of their necks are eased. Eggsy loops his arms around Merlin’s neck and pulls Merlin close between his thighs and kisses back, his turn to explore.

Eggsy pushes Merlin’s jacket off his shoulders and drags it down his arms. Merlin isn’t happy to let go, to let Eggsy tug the jacket free from his wrists until it lands at Merlin’s feet. He grips hard at Eggsy’s hips when his hands are free again and grinds into his groin, which isn’t actually a punishment, not at all, more like an advertisement. Eggsy looks down, and _fuck, yes_ Merlin is fucking _hung_ , bulging obscenely in his trousers, but keeping _that_ in his trousers is a terrible waste, so Eggsy sets about to remedy the situation, pulling clumsily at Merlin’s button and flies.

His hands look positively _petite_ around Merlin’s cock, which is kind of amazing, and arousing enough that Eggsy’s regretting not having prioritized his own trouser removal. Also amazing is how wrecked Merlin is, now leaning over Eggsy with his hands braced on the desk to either side of Eggsy’s hips. He looms, but it’s not threatening, because his head is hanging low, over one of Eggsy’s shoulders, and Eggsy can feel Merlin’s warm panting on the skin of his neck, and it’s giving him goosebumps and making his erection pound with such force his brains are starting to feel scrambled.

Difficult decisions have to be made. Eggsy twists a hand down to the tip of Merlin’s dick, rubbing with two fingertips just under the head, then—abruptly—lets go. Merlin swears a blue streak and grabs at Eggsy’s wrist, but Eggsy twists it away, and that gets Merlin’s attention: his eyes intent, wary, close to worried. Eggsy pushes at Merlin’s shoulders and scoots his bum off the desk, hands already scrambling with the fastenings of his own trousers. Merlin recovers his wits so quickly Eggsy might have been offended were it not _Merlin_ , Kingsman’s genius technical wizard. He’s also not offended when Merlin pushes his hands away from their struggles and works the fine fastenings of Eggsy’s trousers open with his own deft, long fingers. He tugs the trousers down along with Eggsy’s pants, dropping into a crouch as he does, and Eggsy has to look away, grabbing at Merlin’s shoulders for balance.

His shoes are removed; his socks are stripped. Merlin’s too, judging by the sounds. Merlin shucks Eggsy’s jacket, but he bends to lick along his collarbone as he’s unbuttoning Eggsy’s shirt and stops halfway through because his hands, meanwhile, have travelled around back and down, and he has Eggsy’s arse in his broad hands, and he’s kneading at it, pushing his hot prick against Eggsy’s hip, and his fingers keep slipping _almost_ into the cleft…

“Fuck me,” Eggsy blurts. And then, just in case his need isn’t clear enough from the pounding erection he’s rubbing against the inside of Merlin’s thigh, “ _Please,_ ” he begs.

Merlin lifts him back onto the desk, hands gripping his bare arse. He guides Eggsy down onto his back in a clear space between monitors and gadgets and almost lays on him as he fumbles open a drawer on the other side of the desk. He returns with a small bottle that he sets to Eggsy’s side, freeing both his hands for pushing Eggsy’s knees up and apart. Eggsy curls his toes around the edge of the desk and tries not to squirm under the scrutiny. He grabs at the bottle—O-Ring Silicone Grease, the label reads—but loses his focus when Merlin’s thumb brushes over his hole.

“Give us a little?” Merlin is holding out two fingers.

“Is this safe? It doesn’t look like it’s for sex.” And damn it all, Eggsy can feel a blush hot in his cheeks.

“It’s the same as the stuff for sex. And it’s all I’ve got down here. Do you trust me?”

Eggsy nods, and Merlin takes the little bottle from his hand, opening it and squeezing out enough to slick up his fingers. Then he squeezes out a little more and transfers it directly to where it’s needed, spreading it around thoroughly.

He starts with one long finger, all his focus and his eyes down on where he’s working Eggsy open. One is weird, _foreign_. Two comes before Eggsy’s really had a chance to catch up, and it’s a stretch, so tight and strange Merlin has to remind him to breathe.

Once he remembers to breathe, it does get better. It’s still full and tight and _invading_ , but it’s also Merlin, talented Merlin who strokes and twists and rubs until Eggsy’s cock has leaked a sizable wet spot onto his shirt, making it almost transparent there, a little window onto the skin below.

“Enough? Or one more?” Merlin asks, and Eggsy despairs a little, because hell if he knows. But he considers. Two fingers is OK now, not so much a stretch any longer, but still kind of…pokey, and even though Merlin’s cock is quite a bit bigger than two of his fingers, a smooth hard cock actually sounds better than three bony fingers, not to mention, you know, Eggsy’s _aching_ erection…

“Enough,” Eggsy gasps. “Fuck me,” he adds, in case it wasn’t clear.

The little bottle donates more to the cause, and Merlin pushes at Eggsy’s knees as he leans forward, touching the slick tip of his cock into Eggsy’s slick cleft. Eggsy reaches over his head to grab at the far edge of the desk, and it’s a good job he does, because when Merlin starts pushing _in_ , it’s far more that he was prepared for. Huge and hot, and Eggsy reminds himself to breathe, only maybe a bit too well, because his chest is heaving with it, and his legs are shaking as Merlin keeps pressing in in _in_ , but finally Merlin stops for a moment. He’s looking down where his cock is sunk halfway into Eggsy’s arse, and there’s a little wrinkle in his brow as he considers, and Eggsy quickly regroups and makes it his mission to smooth that wrinkle out, because as uncomfortable as this is in the moment—and it is, too tight, like he’s going to split in half, _Jesus_ —there’s no way he’s getting off this desk until he’s been properly fucked by straight-laced, square, _proper_ Merlin.

It’s good to have goals, innit?

Eggsy removes a hand from the edge of the desk and reaches down, bypassing his own erection, in spite of how tempting it is to give himself a stroke or three, instead reaching down to where Merlin’s inside him. He can’t see, which is frustrating (now maybe he understands the thing about pervs with mirrors above their beds), but he can feel Merlin’s prick and the skin of his own anus, stretched tight around it but still with a little give. (He pokes at it, and Merlin gasps and twitches his hips, out of control.)

In a fucked-up way, it’s a little bit like when Dean pushed him down the stairs and he broke his ankle. Mum had said not to look, so he hadn’t, but when she wasn’t looking he’d reached down to feel the skin stretched oddly over the break, and he’d been reassured that even though it _was_ broken, his body was still holding together, holding everything inside safe.

He’s holding Merlin inside safe now—Merlin, the real hero, the one who hardly blinked at the loss of his lover-partner-friend’s life because there was a world in need of saving and a plan in need of making to do so.

Eggsy wraps his legs around Merlin’s waist and pulls him in deeper, gasping with it because on some level it’s too much, but because today is today and _today Merlin and Eggsy and Roxy saved the world_ it’s just enough, really. Merlin bottoms out with his balls tickling Eggsy’s arse, and Eggsy’s internal muscles are screaming, but he squeezes his thighs around Merlin’s hips and pushes up even as he pulls at Merlin’s neck, tugging him down. They kiss, sloppy and wet, panting into each other’s mouths as Merlin fucks with quick, abbreviated little thrusts, still opening Eggsy up for more.

Eggsy’s ready for more-harder-faster just about the same time as one of Merlin’s long-fingered hands finds his prick and starts pulling at it, long strokes that twist at the end to make Eggsy dig his heels into the small of Merlin’s back and groan, so low and guttural he’s surprised to hear the sound coming out of him.

“Are you going to come with my prick inside you?”

“I want to,” Eggsy gasps, answering earnestly because a rhetorical question, in his state, is unrecognizable.

Merlin doesn’t respond in the affirmative, unless you count him pulling out almost all the way before he shoves back in, his hipbones digging into Eggsy’s arse. He stays deep, grinding rhythmically as he twists his hand around Eggsy’s prick, his eyes locked on Eggsy’s.

“Come for me,” Merlin rumbles, pushing his prick still deeper.

Eggsy comes, arching and spurting into Merlin’s hand, his arse clenching hard around Merlin’s prick.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Merlin exclaims on a hoarse exhalation. His hand gentles around Eggsy’s prick, but his hips are twitching restlessly.

“Go on, then,” Eggsy gasps, as soon as he has the breath to do so. His orgasm is still buzzing down into his legs, in his calves around Merlin’s hips, in his _ankles_ , but he can take whatever Merlin has left in the tank—wants to, even.

Merlin takes him at his word, pulling up and pulling Eggsy’s knees apart again, bending him nearly in half as he leans over the desk, pounding a driving tempo into him. Eggsy’s so relaxed now, it’s not that he doesn’t feel it, but it’s easy to be still, to let Merlin take him and have him, and soon enough Merlin’s rhythm becomes jerky and uneven, and then he’s groaning and grinding deep and spilling hot and wet inside, and Eggsy can’t suppress a shudder with how unexpectedly good _that_ feels.

Merlin slumps over him when he’s finished, mouthing at Eggsy’s ear, and Eggsy hums with contentment, wrapping Merlin up, once again, in his legs and arms, feeling Merlin still twitching deep inside.

“Thank you,” Merlin croaks into his ear.

Eggsy waits until Merin’s propped himself up onto his elbows, his warm gaze focused, once again, on Eggsy’s face.

“My pleasure,” Eggsy says, and he means it. He can’t keep the affection from his smile, nor would he want to.

Merlin’s dick is softening and starting to slip out, which is kind of gross, actually, but Merlin leans down to kiss Eggsy, just lips clinging softly, separating—repeat at will. Eggsy still pulls a face, interrupting a kiss, when Merlin’s prick slips free, and he can feel the looseness of his arse along with the slippery mess starting to drip out. Merlin lopes away easily and comes back quickly with a damp flannel.

Eggsy still feels a bit sticky, after he’s cleaned up, and definitely unsteady on his legs, even after Merlin’s helped him to his feet and back into his pants and trousers.

“You can shower back at mine,” Merlin suggests, reading the discomfort off Eggsy’s face. He’s still finishing doing up his own trousers, and then he tucks the little bottle of silicone grease back into his desk drawer. They didn’t really make much of a mess, in the end. (It’s almost disappointing.)

“I’m going home with you?” Eggsy has to ask, just to be sure.

Merlin holds out one hand, beckoning. “It’s a standing invitation.”

**Author's Note:**

> Series title ("Innocent Son") is a song by Fleet Foxes. It probably implies more daddy kink than you're going to find here (which is to say: no daddy kink at all), but the parts of the series take their titles from the lyrics of the song, so...*shrug*
> 
> Also, and I'm just guessing here, so feel free to correct me, but you probably shouldn't use non-medical grade silicone lubricants as sexual lubricants. Sorry, Merlin. :/

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic]In Sorrow To The Harbor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3703847) by [readbyjela (jelazakazone)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelazakazone/pseuds/readbyjela)




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